


The Earth Withers

by threefreefleas



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, my children why do i do this to them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-04 00:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threefreefleas/pseuds/threefreefleas
Summary: "and the earth withersthe moon crumblesone by onestars flutter into dustbut the seadoes not changeand she goes forth out of hands andshe returns into handsand is with sleep….love,the breakingof yoursoul"- E. E. CummingsThis was prompted by the artwork of the amazing @kamthe on tumblr! I've included the art in the work, but it isn't mine by any means! All theirs!Thanks so much to @deepdarkfandom for beta-ing!





	1. And The Earth Withers

Scotty really needed to update the scanners.

That was Kirk’s first priority, once he got back on his beloved ship. Make Scotty fix the damn scanners, so that maybe, the next time there was actual, intelligent life on a Class M planet, the First Officer and Captain of the greatest ship in the fleet wouldn’t be captured and held prisoner.

The mission hadn’t started off bad, not at all. KSY-27, or “Ecloria” as they would learn the native species called it, was beautiful. A pale-yellow sky stretched from miles over the forest, all its plants shades of blue and purple. It was hot for a human, around 100 F, but Spock had been practically beaming when he had gotten the planetary analysis at his station.

“Captain,” he had said, “Our scanners report no settlements or evidence of civilization on this planet, as well as an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere within acceptable parameters for the crew. I posit that this would be an excellent opportunity for shore-leave.”

“Quite right, Mr. Spock.” Kirk said smiling, “I think we could all do with a little shore leave.” He turned back to the viewscreen, thinking. “Perhaps we should send down a small landing party first, just to make sure it’s absolutely safe.”

Kirk turned back to Spock, noting the intrigued quirk of his eyebrow, the way he leaned forward to address him. Though he maintained the picture of perfect Vulcan control, to the untrained eye, Krik knew that his First Officer was more than ready to explore the new world below them. It had been nearly six Terran months since they had last had shore leave or new material to study, and the crew was showing signs of stress. No extreme incidents had happened yet, but complaints were coming in with far greater frequency from the Ensigns, both for smaller infractions than normal, and for an increasing number of more serious reports. Everyone was a little testy, and KSY-27 provided the perfect opportunity to gain some much-needed R&R for the crew.

Just because Kirk was in command however, and enjoyed his position perhaps more than was usual, didn’t mean that he didn’t want a day where no one could call on him. A day where he wasn’t needed for anything from planet-threatening crises, to the latest mockery of Yeoman Rand’s hair. A Captain's work was never done.

“Mister Spock,” said Kirk, “How would you like to accompany me to the surface? Along with a small security party, of course.”

 “Captain,” said Spock, frowning, “It perhaps would not be wise to have both of the highest-ranking senior officers on an unknown planet at the same time.”

"Nonsense, Spock!” Kirk exclaimed as he stood from his Captain's chair and stretched. “You’re the chief Science Officer, and this is a completely uncharted planet! The Enterprise needs your scientific skills down there, and I, well,” Here Kirk smiled, almost teasingly, “I should come along, of course. To supervise. Besides, the scanners don’t indicate any sort of harmful life down there, do they?”

Spock looked back at his station, and frowned. “They do not, Captain, but there still may be threats that the scanners did not detect.”

Kirk began to pace, almost musing on Spock’s words. “True, true, Mister Spock. However, I have utmost confidence in the security team to take care of anything the scanners don’t detect.” He turned back to Spock. “Come on Spock, what do you say?”

Spock seemed to ponder Kirk’s question with all the seriousness he would devote to a complex equation. “The security teams aboard the Enterprise are among the most highly trained in Starfleet, and it would be extremely beneficial to have the chief Science Officer analyse a planet from the surface. Captain, I believe I shall accompany you.”

Kirk beamed. “Wonderful! Meet me down in the transporter room in ten minutes. Sulu, you have the con. Shall we?”

“You lead the way, Captain,” replied Spock, and the two of them stepped into the turbolift, ready to embark.

***

They materialized in a small clearing, surrounded by tall, periwinkle trees, wrapped with deep purple vines. The three members of the security team -- officers Miller, Le Goix, and Capah, Kirk remembered -- pulled out their tricorders and began to scan the area.

“No life forms in the immediate area, Captain,” Capah said, and then frowned, the sun reflecting off of their dark skin, “In fact, there don’t appear to be life forms of any kind for miles, Captain.”

Spock looked up from the vine he had been studying, puzzled. “That doesn’t seem possible, Commander. A forest at this level of development would have to have some form of animal or insect life, in order to pollinate the plants. It seems highly unlikely that there would be no form of life at all present, if the forest is this highly developed. Are you sure the tricorder is functioning correctly?”

 “Maybe…” said Capah, “No, sir, I’m positive. All other readings from the tricorder are normal. Regular atmospheric readings, mineral deposits, the presence of the landing party -- all of these are identical to what the ship’s scanners were reading earlier. If there’s something wrong, sir, then it would have to be with the ship’s scanners, or else nothing is wrong.”

“Curious.”

“That is strange,” said the Captain, turning to Spock. “Perhaps we should head back up to the ship, just to be on the safe side.”

“I concur, Captain. Enterprise.”

“Aye, sir?”

“Five to beam --”

A strangled scream cut off Spock’s command, as arrows sprouted in the necks of the security team, appearing to come from the surrounding forest. Spock turned frantically -- _where was Kirk?_ He needed to find him, needed to assure himself that his Captain lived still.

The clearing was empty.

Even the bodies of the commanders had disappeared without a trace, without a sound. The trees surrounding Spock were whispering, almost muttering. If Spock had been less worried for his Captain -- and worried he was, he would freely admit to that emotion, at least -- he would have catalogued the individual sounds, tried to deduce where Kirk could have been taken. Now, he could hardly hear his own thoughts above his own frantic heartbeat, pulsing in his side. _Where was Jim?_ The trees, so strange to his desert-grown eyes, seemed to be taunting him with their shadows, dark and mysterious. He knew, logically, that he should not be afraid of the trees. His human ancestors had evolved from creatures that had once lived in trees like this, this should feel safe. They were only trees. But some deeper fear was rising up, overriding the logical patterns of thought which were both so familiar and so unnatural to him. A fear born of millennia of hiding under such similar trees, waiting. A fear of predators jumping from above, a fear of being trapped, of being unable to run. A primal, creeping fear, more dangerous to him and to his Capitan than any emotion he had ever before experienced.

He needed to focus. If he was to find Jim, he needed to focus.

His communicator crackled.

“Scotty to landing party. Sir, I cannae’ hear ya, or track your signal. It appears as tho’ there’s some sort of radiation interfering’. I'll try as hard as I can ta’ get ya out of there, but no promises. In the meantime,” Here Scotty chuckled, as if something in this situation could be construed as amusing. But of course, the commander had no knowledge of the deaths of the security team, or Kirk’s disappearance. “Just try ta’ enjoy yourselves. Scott out.”

Spock put away the communicator. If connections were truly out, as they appeared to be by Mr. Scott’s jovial tone, then it would be of no use to attempt to contact the Enterprise immediately, and try to have them locate the Captain with their superior scanners. It was best to just pick a direction to start searching.

A voice, harsh and heavy, spoke from the treeline.

“Welcome back, Jyhare. We have waited long for your coming.”

Spock whirled about to face the newcomer. It was tall, taller even them him, approximately 2.5 meters in height. It appeared to be surrounded by a shell of some sort, or perhaps an armor, of a dark purple material. _Their suits are probably optimized for ground-level camoflauge_ , Spock realized. _A curious strategy._ Two slits in what would be generally recognized as the face on a humanoid seemed to be the only weak point. There were two other such beings behind the one closest to him, Spock noted. Their vaguely human-shaped faces held no indication of mercy or kindness, yet the tone of the one who had spoken seemed to be one of respect, not fear.

It spoke again. “I regret we had to kill those Heart-bound to you. The Jyhare cannot have another Heart by him.”

Spock’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

A sound came from the central creature. It may have been their form of laughter, or perhaps a growl.  
Spock found it difficult to tell.

“Come with us, Jyhare, and we will take you to your Heart. Don’t worry, we’ve kept him safe for you. Just follow us.”

The creatures began to walk away, and Spock followed close behind, boots sinking lightly into the damp, purple earth of the planet. Two more followed behind, almost silently, as Spock realized that he was surrounded, with no way to contact the ship.  
No way to free the Captain.  
For it was almost certain that these creatures had him. _What reason did they have to kill the security team_ , Spock wondered, _but not Jim or myself?_ _For what purposes do they need us?_

Caught up in his thoughts, Spock hardly heard the movement of the two guards behind him, the lifting of the club. There was no warning, no preparation for the blinding pain as it collided with his skull, and the sudden onslaught of darkness.

***

The bindings around Kirk’s wrists chafed as he tried to pull free.

 _“Stop that!”_ One of his guards growled. _“Your Heart-mate will be here soon enough.”_

“What have you done with Spock?!” Kirk cried. “Where is he?”

“He is here, Heart.”  
Leghar, the leader of these strange people, reemerged from the treeline, dragging an unconscious Spock behind him. The sight of Spock, hurt, bleeding, struck something in Jim, an instinctual desire to protect, to keep safe.

“What have you done to him!?”

Leghar chucked. “Nothing permanent, don’t you worry. He’ll come back to you soon enough.”

Leghar’s words were true. Spock began to stir on the forest floor, softly groaning as his mind catalogued the injuries and bruises it had sustained on its journey to this place.

“Spock,” Kirk called out softly, “Spock! Wake up!”

“Jim…” groaned his First Officer.

Leghar smiled. “See? He’s perfectly alright.” To his men -- if they could even be called men -- he ordered, “Tie him up, too. And make it good -- we don’t want him escaping.”

The guards quickly bound Spock’s hands with some strange sort of purple rope, and placed a noose around his neck, holding him upright. _This isn’t right_ , screamed Kirk’s mind, _Spock shouldn’t be tied up, shouldn’t be hurt like this!_

The Vulcan was quickly regaining consciousness. He looked up, frantically, and breathed a sigh of relief when he located Kirk, on the other side of the clearing. _Are you well, Jim?_ His eyes seemed to say. Jim snorted. _As well as I can be._ He tried to project back. Seemingly satisfied with this half-imagined exchange, Spock turned to Leghar.

“For what purpose do you keep us here? We had no knowledge of your existence, and came in peace. We will leave peacefully. Just grant us release.”

Leghar smiled.  
“Jyhare, you know I cannot do that. We have awaited your arrival for far too long! Legend has told us of the day when the Jyhare would come for us, bringing with him a Heart of pink and gold. They say that we would know him by his Heart alone, and that he would know all the secrets of the world. You have finally come. You must tell us what you know.”

Spock did not struggle against his captors, for it would have been futile. The binding around his hands was much too tight for him to break.

“I am not the Jyhare of which you speak. Captain Kirk and I are --”  
His words cut off with a splutter as the alien holding him captive pulled tighter on his makeshift collar. Their leader -- at least, Kirk presumed that this was the leader -- stepped closer to Spock. Muffled by his mask, he spoke.

“I would not presume to do this if I was not absolutely certain. You are the Jyhare. Your Heart tells it.” His arm short out, grabbing Spock by the chin and pulling him closer, forcing him to stare into the two rectangular slits in the mask. “My people are dying, Jyhare, turning to sin. Couples form among those who are not Heart and Heart-bond, have young, and split apart. People are forgetting the old ways, forgetting how to care for the temples and the city. We have to know how to fix this. _I_ have to know how to fix this.”

“Many years ago, our world was peaceful, prosperous. We lived below the ground, as we were made to. But our cities are becoming poisoned, my people disregard tradition and custom. The _innovation_ that they so acclaim,” he spat, “Only pollutes our streets, distracts our young and corrupts them, teaches them _tolerance_ and _compassion_ for those disgraced vermin who crawl along the surface and dare to call themselves life. My people have been driven to the surface by their false ideals and the corruption which spreads so swiftly. You are the only source that I know which and repair this, which can save our society from the doom of the surface, save it from its seductive song. Now,” he released Spock's chin, “You _will_ tell me how to save my people from destruction, or,” and he sounded smug now, Kirk noted with growing apprehension, “Your Heart will pay.”

Spock bared his teeth, eyes flashing as Kirk had never seen them. “You will not hurt the Captain.”

The leader nodded. “Of course I wouldn’t. It is a crime worthy of death to hurt a bonded Heart. Simply tell me what I need to know to save my people, and I won’t have to sacrifice my own morals in such a way.”

“I cannot!” Cried Spock, desperation growing in his voice, “I do not know!”

Resignedly, the leader began to approach Kirk, taking up his whole field of vision.  
“Frava, muzzle the Jyhare. He clearly needs to see his Heart in pain in order to tell us anything.”

“Yes, Lehgar.”

A band of rough cloth was shoved into Spock’s mouth, silencing him. His eyes filled with fear -- true, intense, soul-wrenching fear -- and he struggled, straining against his bonds, his desperate cries for Kirk’s safety muffled. The guards holding Kirk shuffled as the Lehgar approached.

“What are you waiting for, frava? You know what to do!”

A knife glinted uncomfortably close to Kirk’s face.

[X](http://kamthe.tumblr.com/) 

“Sir,” one of them spoke, “What if he does not talk?”

“Oh,” said Lehgar, “He will talk. He will _sing._ ”

He paced, seeming to take his time in picking which part of Kirk to pick apart first. Kirk’s breath increased, bare chest heaving. He had never been so aware of all the tender parts of his flesh, the soft gaps between his ribs, the closeness of his carotid artery to his skin, so easy to cut, so necessary for living. What were they going to do to him? His eyes darted over to Spock, still trying to escape. _It’s okay_ , Kirk tried to project, _I’ll be fine. They won’t do anything. I’ll be alright._ He didn’t believe himself, but there was nothing to be done. Spock was staring at him as if this was his last chance to see him alive, like all his worst nightmares -- nightmares about glass and red lights and _so close and so far away_ \-- were coming true. He had told Kirk about them, once, when both of them had gone to the rec room a month into the five year mission.

Kirk hadn’t been able to sleep, either, afraid that if he fell asleep his body would simply shut down, would run out of power, and that would be it for him. The hour had been late, and Spock’s hands had been trembling.

 _He has such beautiful hands_ , Kirk thought, almost hysterically, _such beautiful hands, I should really tell him, I can tell him when we’re done with this, soon, soo-_

Lehgar stopped his pacing, coming to rest by the rest of his guards.

“Yes, he will sing,” he said, almost contemplatively. “Frava!”

“Yes Sir!”

“Poke out his eye.”

“Yes Sir!”

The knife was coming towards him, rushing fast and bright, and Kirk screamed.


	2. And the Moon Crumbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parts in bold are the alien language, auto-translated for your benefit! :P
> 
> Warning! This does get a bit graphic, with a little bit of body horror. If you want to skip any particular scenes, what they are is listed below. If you don't want (vague) spoilers, don't read the rest of the notes! :)
> 
> walking skeleton/losing body parts -- this bit is in italics for a big chunk
> 
> graphic depictions of torture -- between the big "-----------" bits where it switches to Kirk's perspective.

Leghar was frustrated. The Jyhare wasn’t giving him the information he needed, the things he wanted. While the Heart had screamed, strange red blood slipping from his wounds -- how easily he was hurt! -- the Jyhare had remained still, eyes trained on his Heart, flinching at every blow, but never looking away, never leaving him alone. _It’s almost as if they’re communicating,_ he thought. The legends of his people had told of the gods having such a power -- the power to speak into minds, to have them hear and listen to your words, to have them live and want your deepest desires as you did. This was truly the Jyhare of old, then -- but how to get him to share his gift? Perhaps if he separated the Jyhare and his Heart, if he kept them both in the sweetest torture of suspense, without knowledge of what was being done to either, then he would let his secrets slip. 

“Cease!”

The knife paused, millimeters away from the sensitive flesh of Kirk’s inner arm. Its curved edge gleamed in the light of the sun as Kirk’s chest heaved, thankful for even the shortest respite from the pain.

Leghar turned to look at the pair, Spock and Kirk, and sighed in disgust. He motioned to the closest guards.

“This is useless. Frava! Take the Jyhare away, make sure he’s safe.” Leghar grinned.

“I want some … alone time with the Heart.”

The sound that tore from Spock’s lips was, in the truest sense, inhuman. A primal scream of a creature too long tormented being forced to endure more than it could bear. Birds -- or at least this planet’s version of birds -- fled from their perches in the trees, scared away by his screams.

Spock kicked and thrashed against the guards as they dragged him away, choking when they pulled the collar too tight to encourage him to leave easily. But he would not. He would not leave Kirk alone with this monster, wouldn’t leave him to face the fear and the pain alone. He could feel, in tandem with his own emotions, Kirk’s pain and fear -- his worry for Spock and worry for himself, for his own mind. Spock could feel everything.

The guards paused in the middle of another clearing, similar to the one the landing party had beamed onto only hours before. Spock was still struggling.

 **“Hold him-”** grunted a guard, who was trying to enter in a code into a hidden keypad in the bark of one of the trees. **“Hold him still, dammit! It’s no use if he escapes!”**

 **“I’m trying!”** replied the other. **“He’s stronger than you’d think!”**

As hard as Spock struggled, however, the guard managed to type in the correct code, opening up a hole in the soft purple earth.

They dragged Spock down it, down a steep, narrow staircase. Spock took careful note of his surroundings -- it would be paramount to know where to go if -- _when,_ he reminded himself -- when he managed to escape. The walls were rough, carved out of stone so deep in color that it appeared black. _Rather like the obsidian deposits on Earth_ , he noted. The floor was covered in soft purple sand. There were windows cut into the side of the tunnel -- but no, Spock corrected, this was a hallway. From the windows he caught glimpses of a city below, a city carved from stone dark as night. The lights of fires shone like Eolian sand flies, sparkling green and gold. The brightest lights came from a building on the other side of the massive cavern. This building alone was not made of the glittering dark stone of the cavern, but appeared to have been sculpted from thousands of tons of some sort of metal. Intricate, its thousands of spires stacked upon each other, reaching almost to the ceiling, where, trapped by the rock, smoke gathered, strange underground clouds to this world. From the length of the stairs he had traveled down, Spock estimated that the smoke had to be at least five hundred feet thick -- if not moreso. This was the work of generations, of millennia of fire-burning. Despite this, roots of the plants above still dangled down into the cave. Or at least, they had once been roots, but had evolved another purpose -- porous, lace-like leaves dangled from each one. Spock presumed that they helped to filter the smoke. As he watched, he saw a liquid dripping from each leaf.

 _Water_ , he realized. _The leaves use the smoke as nutrients, and produce water for the civilization below. Without need for water, they could evolve their entire society completely underground. Fascinating._

The guards halted in front of a cell. The one who had opened the door to the tunnel now unlocked the door, prompting his companion to throw Spock into the cell.

The purple sand of his cell dug into Spock’s sensitive hands. With an ominous clang, the bars slammed shut. Spock panted, shirt torn from the rough landing, but with no other injuries. He had been lucky enough to find himself almost _well treated_ by the aliens who had been assigned to watch him. But for every ounce of care they showed toward his own person, Spock could feel, in fine, numb lines like spiderwebs across his skin, the sting of every whiplash, cut, and burn that Kirk received at Leghar’s hands.

Kirk.

The thought of his captain, his friend, his _Heart_ , as the citizens of this planet called him, in pain, helpless, unable to see. They had deprived Kirk of even the most basic comfort a being can have; the knowledge that another caring being is there to witness your suffering, that you are not alone in your pain. That someone cares. This knowledge burned Spock far more than the phantom pains did. Kirk was utterly alone.

Spock pulled himself to the side of his cell, gently placing his numb back on the cool wall, and let himself think of the Capitan.

_When he opened his eyes, it was to the hot sands of Vulcan. Spock calmed, somewhat -- his mind was, as it ever had been, a place to escape whatever torment his situation had presented to him. Memories, like flowers, blossomed in the desert, tempting him and inviting him to come and view, to escape._

_A breeze, dry and hot as breath, brushed across his face, and Spock turned to where it had come from. There, in the distance, was a memory. Spock put his hands up to shield his eyes from the sun -- but there should have been no sun here, not in his mind._

_Not the sun, he realized, but Kirk. Kirk was the bright point, brighter than stars and planets and galaxies, brighter than hope and pain. Kirk was love, made alive._

_Kirk -- no, Jim, Spock thought. Jim was T’hy’la._

_Jim was in pain._

_His pain burned through Spock all the more clearly, here -- there was no escape from it. It ate at Spock, a whirling sandstorm of terror and misery. The wind picked up around him, floating the burnt-red sand around him like some phantom from an old Earth story book. The wind sung with fearful howl, churning and writhing as somewhere, Spock knew, Jim too must be writhing._

_Though the sand grew in both thickness and speed, the light from Kirk never dimmed. Wind whipped about him, cruelly, more alive and more malevolent than any storm in reality. It tore into Spock’s skin, stripping away his flesh until the cloud was muddied brown, soaked in his copper-green blood. Still it roared, a voice in the peace of his mind, a scream, begging._

_Spock could barely make out the words._

_“P...Please stop, no!”_

_Gritting his teeth, Spock stood. The storm grew in strength around him, trying to force him down, to make him feel. The sand dug deeper into his arms, exposing bone and grating on raw nerve. It was little more than a skeleton, so human-looking at yet so different, that wandered across the sand, toward the connection, toward the light._

_That’s Jim, Spock thought, unable to see now, but still unerring in his knowledge of where the bond would be. His mind was the world, around him -- he felt the sand under his feel, felt the slim bones of his fingers whipped away by the storm. Only the storm was separate from him, and not by his own design. This was Jim’s pain, his suffering. Spock needed to be there, needed to be with him._

_I have to get to Jim_

_Jim.  
Jim. _

_Jim …_

Though he had not slept, Spock started as if awoken suddenly. He knew that he had to appear calm, collected, if he was to get the guards to listen to him. But what could he say to gain his freedom? What could he say to get them to free Jim, to stop Jim’s pain? If only he had been the Jyhare which they thought him to be. He would have given the answers Leghar sought, any answer, if only to free Jim. If Leghar had wanted to know how a warp core was built, how to destroy the sun, how to end the Federation, all he would need to do was to bring Jim pain, and Spock would grant him his wish.

 _I am weak._ Spock realized, _weak enough to doom those around me to death if only to save one person._ It was a flaw, of his. Jim had the ability to make him feel, make him care with all the emotion which Spock had sought to banish from his life. His life, his smile, his _humanity_ made Jim more valuable to Spock than all of creation. _At least,_ Spock thought, _Leghar has no idea of the Federation, or of other races beyond his own._ There might be some hope, then. _He cannot ask for the secret to destroy that which he does not know exists._

Another curling sting of Kirk’s pain hit Spock, and he knew what he had to do. If Leghar wanted a prophet, he would get one.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kirk couldn’t see. Or think, or cry out.

“Again!” Snarled Leghar, pacing, his dark green skin so much like Spock’s. “If the Jyhare will not speak, then he shall have to feel his Heart suffer the consequences. Beat him again!”

The whip landed, liquid fire, on Jim’s back. Blood dripped from each of the cuts, the off-pink of his ribs showing more with each strike. Jim’s hands shook as they were held above him, useless except as a point of further pain. Though Leghar was not the most creative of people, it seemed that all his latent creativity had channeled itself into inventing new ways of torture. There wasn’t an inch of Kirk’s skin which had been left unharmed. Whips, burns, acid -- Leghar had tried them all.

Kirk looked up at his captors, unseeing, eyes bloodied but so far unharmed. _“I want you to know,”_ Leghar had said, _“I want you to know exactly what I’m going to do to you. I want to you fear me, I want the Jyhare to feel that fear.”_

“Please,” he begged, “Let me go! Please!”

“Oh Heart, Heart, Heart. I haven’t gotten what I need yet.”

“Anything!” Kirk pleaded, “I’ll tell you anything you need to know!”

Leghar’s smile curdled, lips pulling back to reveal sharp, yellow teeth. He stepped close, close enough where Kirk could see every twitch of his eyes, every line in his face.

“Do you think,” he whispered, “That I’m a fool? I know perfectly well that Hearts can know nothing of value. You all think that we need you. That you’re so important to our society.” He stepped back, addressing the guards around him. “Have you ever hear of a Heart doing anything to contribute to our knowledge? A Heart that’s a priest? That’s a _scholar?!_ ” The guards around him guffawed. Leghar turned back to Kirk. “Your only use, _Heart_ , is breeding and pleasure.” A thoughtful expression came on his face. “And leverage, too, I suppose. Frava!” He barked to the whip-holding guard, who had been Kirk’s torment.  “Tilt his head to the side, and hold him secure. He’s going to learn the true meaning of pain.”

The cold metal of the guard’s armored gloves bit into the cuts on Kirk’s face, and he winced. His head was wrenched sideways, and his already abused muscles screamed in protest. Kirk let out a groan of pain. His head was locked in position, throbbing with the fresh agony of movement. Across the clearing, he saw two of the guards filling up what looked to be a small teapot with a green liquid. It hissed and bubbled as it came into contact with the teapot’s sides. Once it was filled to the brim, the guards handed it carefully to Leghar.

“On his knees, Frava.”

Kirk was shoved down into the soft earth below, his shattered knee doing little to support him. Leghar approached, crouching down at eye level. _God help me,_ Kirk thought, _just make it quick._

“Now, this won’t do any damage.” Said Leghar, putting the spout of the teapot into Kirk’s nose, allowing just a trickle of the green liquid through. He grinned. “But it will hurt like hell.”

As the liquid flowed down into Kirk’s nose, it began to eat away at the sensitive inner lining. It was like sand pouring into his skull, the pressure building and building as it began to drip out the other side. It was fire, it was death. His existence had been reduced to pain, to waking walking fire, insidious and evil.

 _SPOCK_ _,_ his mind cried, _SPOCK! HELP ME!_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In his cell far below, Spock jumped to his feet. Beyond the pain he felt, he heard Jim -- heard his cries of pain in his mind.

_Spock ….. Spock … help me …_

The pain of it -- Spock could hardly breathe through it. For Jim to be subjected to this, for him…

He threw himself against the bars, hardly caring about his bruising shoulder. The guards tried to restrain him, but they were far weaker than he was, made strong with adrenaline and desperate protective instinct.

“Jim!” He screamed, unable to help but try to reach his t’hy’la, no matter how illogical the the attempt, as it was sure that Jim could not hear him.

“Jim! Jim!!”

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the pain subsided. _What could have happened?_ Spock thought, with the small portion of his mind left to rational thought. Dread washed over him as he realized what must be happening -- he could still feel Jim’s mind, faintly, but bright as it always was. But it was fading, fading quickly, and Spock knew only one reason for that.

Jim was dying.

Leghar had pushed him too far, had broken his precious captain irrevocably for information that Spock didn’t know how to give, that he couldn’t give.

  _I have to get to Jim._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo! Second chapter DONE. I'm planning about 7 chapters, but I don't know if I'm actually going to stick to that or not, so ... yeah. Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments greatly appreciated. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This will hopefully be a multi-chapter fic, and I'm going to try for updates every two weeks, but we'll see how it goes!


End file.
